


carry your throne

by schweet_heart



Series: Merlin Fic [164]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Everybody Lives, F/M, Fix It, Happy Ending, Light Angst, M/M, Multi, Post-Canon, Post-Canon Fix-It, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 15:11:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17144087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schweet_heart/pseuds/schweet_heart
Summary: Merlin waits, but it takes Arthur a while to speak. He looks as though he’s choosing his next words carefully, and in spite of himself Merlin can feel it again, the slow chill that will always be Camlann’s shadow.“Just spit it out, Arthur,” he demands finally. “Whatever it is, it can’t be as bad as all that.”Written forMerthurDaily's10 Years of Merthur Celebration 2018, Day 7: Finale.





	carry your throne

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel to [long deaths ago, your heart](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17095967) and [the vanished hour](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17118053). Please read those first!

 

It’s Arthur who insists on going back to Camlann.

 

“You just want a big parade to boost your ego,” Merlin grumbles, although that’s not the real reason that he objects. The thought of Camlann still fills him with the old dread, a not-quite-superstitious fear that everything they have worked for over the past year will be snatched away. “It’s only a field, Arthur, there’s really no point in going back.”

 

But Arthur is persistent, and when Gwen gets in on the act as well, Merlin gives up—there’s no winning against the two of them when they get like this, not when they’ve both got that look in their eyes.

 

Accordingly, as soon as the spring thaw sets in and the worst of the snow is gone from the roads, the three of them set off in the direction of the White Mountains, taking with them only a small escort of knights on horseback and a covered wagon for supplies. Secretly, Merlin is relieved—the smaller the party, the faster they’ll travel and the sooner they can return, but he tells Arthur that it’s a pity about the parade anyway—he’d been looking forward to seeing the king juggle. Arthur cuffs him cheerfully around the back of the head, and Gwaine hollers.

 

Camlann looks as tranquil as it ever has. The field full of carnage that Merlin had once ridden through is gone, replaced by early spring flowers and lush grassland. He’s not sure he’ll ever bring himself to actually _like_ the place—he still has nightmares about riding into the valley too late and finding Arthur lying among the dead—but even Merlin has to admit that it could be pretty, in the right light.

 

“There’s another reason why we wanted to come here,” Arthur says at length, when they’ve finished paying their respects at the shrine and have stopped the wagon to eat. He’s sitting with his legs dangling, dust coating his trousers up to the thighs, and the seriousness of his expression sits incongruously in such an idyllic scene. “We have something to tell you.”

 

“Gwen’s pregnant,” Merlin guesses immediately, with only the smallest twinge of his heartstrings at the thought. He had long ago accepted that keeping Arthur alive and unhurt meant seeing him with Gwen, but while his own personal happiness is a small price to pay for Arthur’s safety, that doesn’t mean it is always easy to have to sit back and watch it unfold. “That’s it, isn’t it? Congratulations.”

 

Arthur and Gwen exchange another glance, and Arthur raises an eyebrow.

 

“No, actually,” Gwen says, squeezing the king’s hand once before letting it go. She reaches for one of of Merlin’s instead, swinging his arm in her warm grip, and says awkwardly, “It’s about the battle. You see, we didn’t exactly tell you everything.”

 

 

+

 

 

They had explained to him, originally, that it had been his warning which had turned the tide, preventing the battle from turning into a massacre.

 

“We knew Morgana would try to outflank us,” Arthur had said. “So we cut her off. From there, it was just a matter of holding the line until the sorcerer arrived.”

 

When Merlin had eventually admitted to _being_ that sorcerer, he had fully expected all hell to break loose, but Arthur had taken the whole thing remarkably in stride. He had even gone so far as to legalise magic again, although he had tried to insist that this had nothing to do with Merlin. Only now, apparently, is Merlin permitted learn the true extent of his own involvement in their victory.

 

“You mean— _another me_ ,” he says, and if he sounds incredulous then he defies anyone to react otherwise under the circumstances. “From the _future_.”

 

It seems impossible—but then, he’s standing here at Camlann with Arthur safe and alive and the battle over, and that had seemed impossible, once.

 

“You were very brave,” Gwen says with a smile. “And very helpful. You told us everything we needed to know to defeat Morgana.”

 

“Can you give us a moment?” Arthur asks her, and she nods, kissing Merlin’s cheek with a smile before walking away. Merlin is left staring at his king and best friend, the man he has loved for over a decade, and for the first time in his life he is unable to think of a single word to say.

 

“I’m sorry,” Arthur offers, after a moment. “We should have told you sooner, it’s just—we’ve been so busy that it never seemed to be the right moment. But I thought you ought to know.”

 

Merlin absorbs this—a thank you _and_ an apology all in one day, the world must be ending—and doesn’t speak, trying to fit his mind around this new idea. Arthur waits patiently, until finally Merlin asks, “Do you know what happened to him? Or rather, me. Am I going to run into myself in the street one day? Because if so, I’d rather be prepared.”

 

“I don’t know,” Arthur admits. “According to him, the best case scenario is that he ceased to exist once that future was averted.”

 

“And the worst case scenario?”

 

Arthur shrugs, glancing away and squinting like he’s looking into the sun. “Worst case scenario is that he’s still out there, somewhere. Either way, I don’t think we’ll see him again.”

 

It’s a warm afternoon. The valley is dry and sultry with the heat, motionless save for the occasional breeze blown down from the mountains. Arthur jumps down from the back of the wagon and nudges Merlin with his shoulder as he passes, heading briskly in the direction of the woods.

 

“Walk with me?”

 

Merlin follows. Arthur looks flushed and nervous, completely unlike his usual self, but he doesn’t speak again until they’re amongst the trees, hidden from the road. Then he stops and turns.

 

“There’s something else,” he says. “Something that affects all three of us.”

 

Merlin waits, but it takes Arthur a while to speak. He looks as though he’s choosing his next words carefully, and in spite of himself Merlin can feel it again, the slow chill that will always be Camlann’s shadow.

 

“Just spit it out, Arthur,” he demands finally. “Whatever it is, it can’t be as bad as all that.”

 

“I’m hoping you won’t think it’s bad at all,” Arthur says, then bites his lip. What he says next takes Merlin entirely by surprise. “We want you to join us.”

 

“You do?” Merlin asks, frowning. “To do what?”

 

“Oh, nothing special,” Arthur says, with the air of someone about to unveil an expensive gift that he’s not sure the recipient will like. “Just ruling Camelot. Among other things."

 

 

+

 

 

“What happens now?” Merlin asks the dragon later. He’s still reeling from the day’s events, from the explanations and, yes, from the kisses. Arthur had been quite thorough in his explanation of exactly what ‘other things’ might entail. “Now that we’ve defeated Mordred and Arthur’s destiny has changed—is he still the Once and Future King?”

 

“I’m afraid the future is no longer clear to me, Young Warlock,” Kilgharrah tells him, baring his teeth in what Merlin assumes must be a grin. “Whether that part of your and Arthur’s path remains the same, I cannot say. But fear not. Even if Arthur does not come again as the legends have foretold, he will still have achieved the most important thing any of us can wish for in this life.”

 

“And what’s that?” Merlin asks, feeling somewhat sceptical. As far as he’s concerned, they’ve already united Albion; what more can one man be expected to do?

 

The dragon lets out a put-upon sigh and shuffles his wings. “He will have lived," he explains ponderously, with a sly flicker of his golden eyes in Merlin’s direction. “And better yet—he will have loved.”

**Author's Note:**

> There is an angsty side to this coin, which I will probably write when I get the time, but for now I decided to go with the Happily Ever After version (there are only so many times that the BBC can be allowed to ruin Christmas, okay?). In the spirit of Doctor Who: just this once, Rose, everybody lives!
> 
> I hope you all have a wonderful Christmas/holiday season. I'll be over here in my "lalala I can't hear you" bunker of Arthur Never Dies, if you want to join me <33


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